


Orphan

by Aceofstars16, MandalorianDragonTrainer



Series: Half a Home [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipper Is Raised By Ford, Gen, Half a Home AU, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Orphaned, Separated at Birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 17:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18077705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aceofstars16/pseuds/Aceofstars16, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandalorianDragonTrainer/pseuds/MandalorianDragonTrainer
Summary: Separated at birth by their parents’ divorce, Dipper and Mabel don’t even know of the other’s existence until they’re 12 years old, with Mabel being raised by her mom and Dipper by his Great-Uncle Ford after the death of his father and grandparents when he was 2 years old....





	Orphan

**Author's Note:**

> First drabble in the Half a Home AU by @mandaloriandragontrainer and @aceofstars16! Fic by Mando, art by Ace!

Ford straightened his glasses and adjusted his suit jacket, drawing a deep breath before stepping through the doors of a church. Stanford Pines had never set foot in a church his entire life. He was raised Jewish after all, drifting away from his parents’ faith after leaving home. But Shermie’s wife was a devout Christian. **  
**

It only made sense their funeral would be in a church.

Admittedly, he’d never been that close to his older brother. Shermie was out of the house by the time Ford was in third grade. But he was still his  _brother_ … the only brother Ford had left. And now he was gone.

“Dr. Pines?”

Ford glanced at the short, stocky woman in front of him, her gray hair in a tight bun that did not match her kind eyes. “That’s me.”

“Thank you for coming early. I thought it would be better for him to meet you before the other mourners arrive.”

Ford nodded stiffly. “Right. Where is he?”

“In the sanctuary,” the woman frowned. “I must warn you, he hasn’t spoken a word since the accident.”

“Oh. Poor little guy,” Ford shifted uncomfortably.

“Right in here,” the woman--the social worker--motioned for Ford to follow.

Shermie and his wife weren’t the only ones who died in the wreck. Their son, Gregory, was gone, too. He was a good kid. A smart one. Ford used to send him presents on his birthday and promised he could come up and spend a summer in Oregon one day. Then the kid fell in with a bad crowd. Eloped with some girl who divorced him nine months later, leaving him alone with their newborn son. Mason. When Greg asked him to be Mason’s godfather, of course he said yes. After all, nothing would happen to Greg. He was healthy and young. And even if something did, Shermie and Carol would be there to look after their grandson.

How did Ford end up here?

“He hasn’t let go of his dad’s coat since they pulled him out of the wreck,” the social worker spoke quietly, eyes full of pity for the child, who was lying on a pew, little hands clutching the jacket as though it were his teddy bear.

Rubbing his neck awkwardly, Ford took a seat beside the little boy. “Hi there, Mason. I’m your Great-Uncle Stanford. But you may call me Ford.”

The child didn’t respond, his bloodshot brown eyes staring blankly into space. A stab of guilt twinged in Ford’s chest. He could barely speak to adults, let alone 2-year-old newly-orphaned children. He glanced back at the social worker, who didn’t seem impressed with his performance.

“Mason? Hey… buddy? How do you feel?”

It was as though the boy were deaf. He hummed softly. “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” by the sound of it.

“Mason…” Ford got down on his knees, looking the child in the eye. “I know you’re sad. I… I’m here to take care of you now, okay?” The boy finally shifted his gaze, staring at Ford in confusion and fear. His soft brown bangs fell to the side, revealing an unusual birthmark on his forehead.

“Huh…” Ford mumbled. “The Big Dipper.”

The words, however softly spoken, flipped a switch in the child’s mind. He bounced upright, eyes wide. “Dat me. I Wipper.”

The social worker gasped quietly. Ford blinked in befuddlement. “You’re… Dipper?”

“Yes. Muh name’s Wipper,” big tears rolled down his round pink cheeks. “Daddy telled you?”

Bewildered, Ford glanced back at the social worker for support. She just smiled.

“Um… yes. Your dad told me... Dipper.”

Without warning, the boy launched himself against Ford’s chest, flinging his little arms around the man’s neck, tiny body wracked with sobs. “Where Daddy? Where he at?”

Hesitantly, Ford wrapped the child in his arms, shushing him softly. “I’m sorry, Dipper… he’s not here. I--I’m here now. I’m not leaving, I promise.”

Mason curled up in Ford’s lap, face buried in his uncle’s coat. Ford didn’t dare move, not even when the coroner arrived to set up, nor the pastor after him. Family and friends filtered in, offering him their condolences and growing angry when he refused to hand Mason over. Not when the orphaned child finally felt safe.

He couldn’t bring himself to approach the coffin, to bid Shermie and Carol and Greg goodbye. He couldn’t let the 2-year-old in his arms see the cold, pale faces of his father and grandparents. Not when he’d already watched them die.

He kept Mason on his hip when he signed the last papers the social worker set before him, and kept him pressed to his side during the cab ride to the airport. The child slept on his lap during the flight back to Oregon, despite Ford purchasing tickets for two seats.

“Goodnight, Dipper,” Ford whispered as he finally tucked the boy into bed at his Oregon cabin.

“Song?” the boy whispered.

“Oh Dipper, I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Star song? Pwease?”

Ford sighed, weakened by Mason’s teary eyes. The kid had already lost enough. “All right then.” He sat at the edge of the bed, opening the blinds to allow the Big Dipper to glitter down on them. “Twinkle twinkle little star…"


End file.
